Holiday Sketches
by SaraiEsq
Summary: Challenge Response (Sketches: 100 words or less / three members of the 51 crew in each / no more than one OC / holiday-themed / no death). All 20 possible sketches complete. I hope you enjoy these as much as I enjoyed writing them.
1. Lights I

The strand of large brightly-colored bulbs jiggled and swayed as Marco carefully climbed the ladder.

"You did test these, didn't you?" asked Marco as he clipped the thick, green, plastic-coated wire to Roy's gutters, glancing toward the man on the nearby ladder.

"I thought you – ," Mike began, orange and blue and green lights dangling from his outstretched hand.

"I checked 'em before you came over," Roy said, the crutch that would be his constant companion for the next several weeks stuffed into his armpit. "Least I could do since – ."

"Glad to help out, brother."

"Now, how's this look?"


	2. Lights II

Johnny stood, hands on his hips, several feet from the brightly lit Christmas tree. It was perfect. With a final nod, he switched the tree off and stepped out into the bay. "Hey, guys," he called, "come take a look!"

Sitting at the end of the couch with Henry, Chet stealthily unscrewed a bright orange bulb from the nearby strand. A mischievous smile pushed his mustache upward as he returned to his newspaper.

"Chet." Hank Stanley's quiet voice brought the lineman's curly head back up. "Be nice."

"Sorry, Cap," he said, retightening the light before Johnny and the others returned.


	3. Trees I

"Johnny, Roy, just got off the phone from HQ and they'd like you to - ."

"No, Cap."

"No?" Hank's eyebrows rose at the paramedic's firm tone. "You don't even know what I'm going to say, John."

"Fire hazards of the season, right?"

"Specifically, the dried out tree demonstration," Roy added, coming to stand next to his partner. "We did it last year."

"And you did a great job! That's why - ."

"No, Cap."

Hank frowned at Roy's equally firm tone. "What's the problem, fellas?"

"Don't you remember, Cap? It took two months for our eyebrows to grow back."


	4. Trees II

Mike peered down at Chet who held a glass of water near the base of the decorated tree. "I already watered it."

"What?"

"I already watered the tree today." Before he could continue, Marco walked in.

"What are you doing, Chet?" he asked. "I already watered it."

Mike stared at Marco, frowning. "Supplying water is my job."

"Well, applying water is _my_ job," he said and stared right back, then blinked. "Let's do it together. Next shift, you get the water, I'll pour it into the base."

"What about me, man?" Chet asked from the floor.

"You can mop up."


	5. Sirens I

The HT spewed an unmusical cacophony of tones onto Dixie's desk, causing Johnny to shout down the hall before hustling toward the squad.

"1125 Majestic Way, apartment fire," Johnny reported. His "turn left" broke the silence in the cab a few minutes later. He glanced at the others – Roy's jaw set and determined, Marco's eyes closed in a brief prayer – and felt a sudden rush of companionship. There was no one else he'd rather face fire with than these men.

"Hear them?" Marco asked, after the squad had rolled to a stop. Multiple sirens blended together, approaching from every direction.


	6. Sirens II

"KMG-365," Cap acknowledged as they pulled away. A few minutes later, he heard a voice from the rear seat. "What's that, Kelly?"

"Just wondering if the guys are done at Rampart, Cap," Chet repeated, raising his voice and turning his body further to be heard over the sirens.

Mike guided the apparatus smoothly around a curve then sucked in his breath. A half-second later, everyone rocked forward as the air brakes engaged, slowing Big Red abruptly. Aided by a double-blast of the air horn, the green four-door cause of Mike's swallowed curse inched aside.

"Forget it, Michael, and drive on."

* * *

_Thanks for all of the wonderful feedback. This is a fun series to write and I'm glad you are enjoying it too._


	7. Good Gifts I

"Got all your presents, Roy?"

"Still working on Joanne's gift, Marco," Roy replied as Hank joined them at the table. "Any ideas, Cap?"

"Not really. Emily gives me a short list of acceptable gifts now."

"Now?"

Hank flushed. "Gave her a vacuum cleaner. Once."

"Even I know better than that, Cap!" Marco exclaimed. "Did you ask Joanne what she wanted, Roy?"

Roy paused, coffee cup halfway to his lips. "After last shift, Joanne said the only thing she wanted for Christmas was me, safe and home." Silence settled over the three men.

"Always a good gift."

"Mama'd like that, too."


	8. Good Gifts II

He peered through the window, watching silently. Johnny tiredly pulled open the door to his locker, flinching at the water-less _sproing_ that greeted him. "Chet!" he muttered in exasperation – then reached into the locker abruptly. He pulled out a small horse-shaped ornament, letting it dangle from his sooty fingers, before running his thumb gently over the horse's head. Gage let out a shuddering sigh, closing his eyes briefly. Resolutely, he put the gift back and headed for the shower.

Mike turned and found Chet watching _him_, arms crossed. "If you see the Phantom," Chet said softly, "tell him, good job."


	9. Treetop I

"Uh, John? About the tree. It looks bare on top."

"Don't blame me, Chet. C-shift dropped the box last year and smashed our firefighter Santa."

"I know. I'm just saying it needs something, babe."

Johnny looked at the tree, narrowing his eyes in consideration. "What do you think, Roy?"

"Uh, I think I _don't_ want to get into this debate again."

"Again?"

Roy sighed. "Last night, the kids were arguing about it. Chris wanted the flashing star but – ."

Johnny smiled. "My little sweetheart wanted an angel, didn't she?"

"A pink satin angel with a stethoscope and a medic kit."


	10. Treetop II

"Why don't you do the honors?" Hank said, nodding at Stoker.

Modifying the old pattern as necessary, Marco's mother had hand-sewn the tree topper out of black-and-white spotted fabric. A scrap of canvas had been fashioned into a coat, altered for a perky tail. A shoelace, transformed into a fire hose, was attached to one paw. Two bright eyes peered out from under a red plastic fireman's helmet, secured by an elastic strap.

"You did a great job, Mrs. Lopez," Mike said after attaching the fire dog. "Gracias."

"Anything for my boys," she replied, tweaking her proud son's blushing cheek.


	11. Traditional I

"Thanks again for helping us out, Marco."

"_De nada_, Roy. I love cooking and being able to share my culture with others."

"Son? Come on over here so Mr. Lopez can teach you how to make – ."

"_Buñuelos de navidad_," Chris said as he eagerly joined Marco at the sink. Roy watched his son tie on a plain white apron then retreated to the couch.

"Sorry, I couldn't come up with a traditional Irish recipe for Chris to take to school," Chet said. "Figured the liberal application of rum would be a problem."

"Not to mention the flames," Roy agreed.


	12. Traditional II

"Ham, always ham," Mike responded, wiping away fingerprints from Big Red's door. "Turkey's for Thanksgiving."

"What about you, John?" Cap asked as he adjusted the pins on the wall map to reflect the latest updates. "What was the main course at Christmas?"

"On the rez, it was usually venison," he replied. "After we moved to L.A., that wasn't an option most years."

"According to my paternal grandmother, the Stanleys have always eaten goose on Christmas Day. To do otherwise, was uncivilized. My maternal grandmother, on the other hand, believed in turkey and ham. And at _least_ six kinds of dessert."


	13. Cards I

"What you doing, man?"

"Addressing a million Christmas cards. What does it look like?" Roy's growl made it clear he was not happy with the task.

"Whoa, forget I asked," Chet said, raising his hands and backtracking hastily. Mike threw out an arm to keep Chet from slamming into the door jam, then tossed a level look at Roy.

"Sorry, guys," he sighed. "Joanne usually takes care of this stuff but – ."

"Didn't she smash her fingers in the car door?" Mike asked.

"Yeah. So _she_ can't address them – ."

Both men pulled out chairs by Roy. "Need some help?"


	14. Cards II

Neither man could miss the almost childlike glee in their captain's voice as he called them into his office. "Fellas, we've got some special mail."

"Oh, wow," Johnny breathed when he saw the desk. Marco's eyes lit up appreciatively.

Cradled between Hank's long fingers were dozens of green and red and white construction paper creations. Crayon drawings of trees and presents and reindeer and fire engines and candles and spotted dogs graced the pages, carefully formed letters wishing the firemen at Station 51 safe and happy holidays.

"Pull up a chair," Hank invited, enjoying the delight on his men's faces.


	15. Snowball I

"When we get here, I'll draw them out and you two will flank 'em," Hank said, drawing one gloved finger through the light powder on the ground to make the plan clear. Both Roy and Chet gave crisp almost military nods and moved out across the snow.

The ambush had occurred as they were trudging back toward the ski lodge on Mount Baldy. After a quick barrage of snowballs, both sides had retreated. Chet's recon had gathered enough information for Cap to plan a counter-attack.

"This is going to be fun," Hank said softly, rubbing his cold hands together briskly.


	16. Snowball II

"They haven't moved yet," Johnny reported, peeking over the top of the natural barricade they'd found. Two dark sock caps and the edge of Roy's bright green parka were still where he'd spotted them five minutes before.

"Sure?" Marco asked.

"It doesn't make sense," Mike pointed out. "Staying in one place."

"We did." His crewmates exchanged a glance. "Fine, guys. You look," he said, pointing.

Stoker raised himself up slowly, head turned in the direction Gage had indicated. Before he could report, a handful of snow hit him square in the face – courtesy of the grinning fire captain skiing past.


	17. Wrapping Paper I

"What _is_ all this stuff?" Chet asked, poking at the tubes of brightly colored wrapping paper decorating the couch. Henry, half-buried under the collection of paper, tape, ribbon, and boxes, thumped his tail twice, causing a brief slide. "And why is it on top of the dog?"

"It was there when I got here, so don't ask me," Johnny replied, leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee.

"It's Mike's," Marco said. "He brought it in this morning."

"Guess he's got a lot of gifts to wrap this year, huh?"

"Nope. Mike said this is all for _one_ present."


	18. Wrapping Paper II

Stoker had folded and partially wrapped bigger and bigger boxes most of the afternoon. The largest so far was a three-foot cube, the interior strung with rubber bands like a cradle. His intense concentration had dissuaded questions. Now, he spoke: "Hank? Roy? Can I get your, uh, opinion?"

The two married men exchanged glances, ambling to Mike's side.

"What's up, Michael?" Hank asked, hiding a smile.

A small velvet box came out of one pocket and was opened carefully.

"It goes here. Think she'll, uh, like it?"

"She'll love it," Roy affirmed.

"As long as your heart comes with it."


	19. Silent Night I

As the sunlight faded, the mild weather relaxed the three men settled on chairs just outside the open rear bay doors. Routine calls had been sprinkled through the day, the chief's surprise inspection had resulted in high marks for Station 51, and the department's holiday safety campaign had apparently mitigated the spike in house fires common this time of year.

"It's been a good day," Hank Stanley said to his linemen who nodded.

"It's not likely to stay quiet."

"I know, Chet."

"Still coming tomorrow?"

"Wouldn't miss it, Marco."

The comfortable silence fell around them again until the tones dropped.


	20. Silent Night II

As Stoker secured the water supply, Gage and DeSoto disappeared into the smoke-filled house, intent on rescue.

Two hours later, Mike watched the family of five being herded into a van. Their house was heavily damaged, their Christmas would be spent in a shelter but they were together and uninjured. He smiled as John slid the door shut and gave it two taps.

"That was good work, Roy," Mike said to the paramedic leaning against the engine. Roy nodded, a look of deep satisfaction on his face, then grimaced. "Foot still sore?"

"A bit."

"C'mon, pally, Rampart's waiting," Johnny said.


End file.
